


Grim Shorts.

by steeleye



Series: It's Grim Up North. [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Comedy, F/M, Romance, crossover fic, myths and legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second in the 'Grim up North' series of stories.</p>
<p>A selection of four grim short stories, starting with, 'Tonight's the Knight'.</p>
<p>Faith turned into a horrible overweight hag-monster? Faith is the King’s mistress? Confused? That’s because it’s ‘grim up north’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tonight’s the Knight.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Buffyverse or the tradition song and story entitled ‘King Henry’. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** Myths and Legends/Songfic. ‘King Henry’ from the Steeleye Span Album, ‘Below the Salt’.

**Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation:** Written in glorious English-English. Mainly English idioms are used throughout this fic.

**Timeline:** BtVS post Season 7, song/legend, alternative universe 1930’s. Second in the ‘Grim up North’ series.

**Words:** 3200+.

**Warnings:** None.

**Summary:** Grim 2: Faith turned into a horrible overweight hag-monster? Faith is the King’s mistress? Confused? That’s because it’s ‘grim up north’.

0=0=0=0

Heaving her corpulent body into a sitting position, Faith cursed long and hard, she knew it wouldn’t do any good, apart from making her feel slightly better…for a moment. Puss oozed from the open sores on her arms, legs and face; her stomach started to rumble, she was beginning to feel hungry again. Holding her head between her huge misshapen hands she thought back along the chain of events that had brought her to this sorry state.

0=0=0=0

Buffy had sent her south from Cleveland to Halifax in Yorkshire where she was supposed to slay one, Alison Gross (reputed to be the ‘Ugliest Witch in the North _Countree_ ’). A simple task for an experienced slayer and so it would have been if the charms and protection spells cast over her had worked. Faith promised herself that when she got home she was going to have a long talk with a certain red haired witch…if she ever did get home that is.

To cut a long story short, Faith had confronted Gross; there had been an insane cackle, a bang and a flash and Faith had found herself looking for ‘out-size’ clothes in this fantasy version of 1930’s England. Of course she could break the curse; the witch had almost died laughing telling how. All she had to do was to persuade a nobleman to sleep with her…simple.

It would have been simple too had she still been her normal hot self; nobles would (no doubt) have been queuing up to sleep with her then, but not now. Growling deep in her throat, Faith stood up, her head almost hitting the roof of the cave that she called home. Stamping her feet the walls shook and little bits of rock fell to the ground around her. 

By now the hunger she felt almost all the time had grown until it was a ravening beast in her belly. Shaking her massive head she moved her ghastly form out into the evening chill. Sniffing the air, she could smell food close by, probably at that hunting lodge a couple of miles down the valley from where she lived.

Hitching up her ragged skirt, Faith threw her cloak around her shoulders (it smelt like there was going to be a storm tonight) and started to tramp towards the lodge, her footsteps shaking the ground as she passed. Pushing her way through the trees and bushes she came out onto the road that led to the hunting lodge. There, in the gathering gloom, she could see expensive motorcars lined up on the forecourt of the lodge. Grooms led away horses as fine young gentlemen laughed and chatted about the day’s hunting.

Huddling down in the cover of a large bush, Faith watched as a tall, handsome, young man led the party into the hall. After watching for several more minutes, Faith smiled to herself. Standing up she began to walk slowly towards the lodge, her smile grew wider as she wondered; would tonight be the Knight?

0=0=0=0

Thirty-one year old, King Henry the Twelfth, by the grace of God, King of England and her Dominions across the sea, didn’t actually like hunting. Yes it was nice to go out riding and shooting with ones friends. But he could do all that on a field day with the army and he wouldn’t have to shoot any poor defenceless deer or anything, and as for fox hunting…what had that author chappy said? The unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable; something like that. Anyway, if they had to hunt things why not hunt something that was a bit of a challenge, maybe something that fought back? He smiled as he looked at the young gentlemen who clustered around him each trying to out do the others in their attempts at flattering him. Perhaps it was time to call a halt to these tiresome, so-called, hunts.

Sitting at the head of the table a mug of mulled ale in his fist, Henry listened as the storm broke over the lodge. He heard the rain start to lash down drumming against the roof and windows as the wind started to shriek in the chimney. In the distance thunder began to rattle and boom. As he took a mouthful of ale, Henry noticed how his hounds had started to whine and creep towards where he was sitting. For a moment he gave the hall a puzzled frown, maybe it was the storm that was so un-nerving the dogs as nothing else seemed to be amiss.

As if to mock him at that very moment the door at the end of the hall burst open. Framed in the wreckage of the barred and bolted door and illuminated by flashes of lightning; stood a hideously misshapen figure. It ducked under the door frame and stamped into the hall it opened its mouth and roared exposing teeth like tether stakes. As it moved its great pendulous breasts swung from side to side under its ragged shirt and the floor boards groaned under its weight.

Blinking into the flickering light, Henry suddenly realised he was all alone with the monster. His so-called friends had left him, running for their lives into the night. He decided that should he survive the night there would be some very hard words and choices for his so-called companions. He also hoped that if he didn’t survive the night his brother Edward would make those self-same friends pay for deserting him in his moment of peril.

Henry eyed the distance from his chair to where the rifles and shotguns where neatly stacked against the wall. He’d never make it, he got the impression that if it wanted to the monster could move very quickly and he wasn’t too sure whether bullets or buckshot would have any effect on her. No, he corrected himself; it would probably just make her very, very angry.

The monster was now standing only a few yards away and Henry discovered that apart from a weight problem, poor dentistry, appalling fashion sense the monster also had a body odour problem. Waving his hand in front of his nose Henry mustered all the courage he could, he took a swig of beer and said;

“Jolly awful weather we’re having,” he smiled as if he was meeting the mayor of some small provincial town, “and-and how long have you been a-a…um,” Henry gestured vaguely at the creature, “for want of a better word, monster?”

“Some meat, some meat you King Henry, some meat you give to me,” chanted Faith as the hunger gnawed at her belly like a living thing. “Go kill your horse you King Henry, and bring him here to me.”

“Now, steady on old thing!” the king almost dropped his tankard at the thought of having to feed his best hunter to the monster.

However, she was obviously hungry so he needed to do something; he didn’t want her snacking on him for instance.

“I say,” began the king slowly, “I can see you’re a little peckish, so, why don’t you start on what’s on the table while I go and look at what’s in the larder?”

The monster that had once been Faith thought about this for a moment before nodding her enormous head; great rat’s tails of filthy hair fell across her repulsive face hiding it for a moment.

The King jumped from his chair and for just a moment he thought again about going for the guns that lay so tantalisingly close. He shook his head and started to head for the kitchens. For all her vile form this creature was one of his subjects and he saw it as his duty to find out what had brought her to this sorry state. So, if he had to feed the creature to find out why she was like she was then so be it. Also it would distract her from eating him…or so he hoped.

For the next hour the king scurried back and forth between the kitchen and the hall. He brought meat and fowl and put them in front of the monster; she opened her cavernous maw and gobbled them down. Just as he was beginning to think that he was going to run out of food the monster belched and sat back on her haunches. 

“Some drink, some drink now King Henry,” grunted Faith, “some drink you give to me.”

“Yes I expect you are a bit thirsty after such a big meal,” smiled the king; maybe he could get her drunk. “What would you like? Ale? Wine? Spirits?”

The king looked up into the monster’s great bloodshot eyes and sighed, “Whatever comes first, eh? Righty-ho, lets see what we can find.”

The king started by rolling over barrels of ale. Faith took the kegs in her great scared hands and smashed in the tops before tossing off the drink in one go.

“I can see there’ll be no drinking you under the table,” said the king quietly.

After six barrels of ale King Henry started to bring up bottles of wine from the cellar. He looked at the bottles as he brought them up from below and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t a great wine drinker so had little knowledge of what he was giving the monster. But, as some of the bottles were covered in dust he took heart that he wasn’t giving her any of the new stuff.

Eventually Faith, farted, belched and picked her nose, she turned towards the king and grinned lasciviously at the monarch.

“A bed, a bed now King Henry, a bed you'll make for me,” she hiccuped and swayed a little as she spoke. “Oh you must pull the heather green, and make it soft for me.”

“Oh I think we can do better than heather, don’t-cha-know?” the king laughed nervously up into the monster’s eyes, “There’s…at least, what? Twenty-four bedrooms in this old place I’m sure we can find one to suit.”

Leading the bloated and slightly drunk monster by the hand, Henry took her on a tour of the lodge. Eventually they found a room with a bed sturdy enough to take the creature’s weight. The monster bounced on the mattress as the bed groaned and creaked under her weight and the king started to sneak off towards the door.

“I’ll wish you a pleasant night and sweet dreams,” grinned the king just as he was about to close the door and run for his life; somehow he’d guessed what was coming next.

“Take off your clothes now King Henry, and lie down by my side,” Faith patted the bed next to her suggestively. “Now swear, now swear you King Henry, to take me for your bride.”

“Oh bugger!” breathed the king, how was he supposed to get out of this? “Umm…look,” the king smiled again and took a step towards the bed, “it’s not that I don’t find you attractive it’s…its just…that,” the king’s mind worked faster than it had in a long time, “that…”

“Fuck sake, pretty boy,” growled Faith, “you don’t have to ‘DO’ anything!”

“I don’t?” gulped the king sighing with relief.

“No,” Faith sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, “I’ve just gotta get ya to ‘sleep’ with me.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the king relieved, he advanced on the bed, “Umm, do you mind if I ask why?”

“Can’t say,” Faith lifted her legs onto the bed and cursed as the extra weight caused the bed to collapse.

“Never mind,” breathed the king as he squeezed onto the bed next to her, “I can buy another…so you can’t say, eh? Oh well,” the king tried to get comfortable, “there’s a few things I'd rather people didn’t know about too…” like this, he added to himself.

0=0=0=0

The morning broke, as mornings sometimes do after a bad storm, clear and sunny. Birds twittered in the trees as fluffy whites clouds sailed majestically across a startlingly blue sky. King Henry awoke, he cracked open an eyelid and looked around, there was a distinct lack of monster-hag-thing in the bed with him; even her smell appeared to have got up and left. For a moment Henry was actually sorry he’d not got to the bottom of the creature’s story. Maybe he’s have a battalion of Foot Guards search the forest for…

“What the hell are you going on about!?” the king sat up and stretched glad to be alive, “Leave these sorts of things well alone old chap,” her told himself, “nothing good ever comes of it.”

Just as he was about to swing his feet onto the floor Henry heard something that sounded like gentle snoring coming from under the covers next to him. Maybe the monster hadn’t gone, maybe it was lying in wait to attack him…after it had bathed and shrunk? Gingerly he moved the covers aside until he came across a mass of silky smooth dark brown hair.

“I say!” the king started to explore further but suddenly found it hard to breath when a rather attractive young woman sprang from the bed clothes and held him by the throat.

“I say!” chocked the king as the naked young woman tightened her hold on his wind pipe.

Being a properly brought up young man the king averted his gaze from the naked woman even as she was trying to strangle him. All of a sudden the woman must have realised she was naked and gave a small scream. She let go of the king’s throat and gathered the sheet around her to hide her nakedness.

“You!” she said looking straight at the king.

“Indeed,” coughed the king rubbing at his throat, “it is I…and you are?”

The king stopped himself from asking what she did for a living and how long she’d been doing it.

“Faith,” replied the woman shortly as she looked around the room and then down at herself, she smiled, “thank fuck for that! Have I still got it or what?”

“I would hazard a guess that, yes you have,” smiled the king bemused.

“Hey,” Faith gave the king an appreciative once over, “B’ s gonna be so pissed! Even as a hag monster I’m just sooo hot!”

“Umm yes I’m sure you are,” nodded the king more than a little confused, “but would you mind awfully telling me what the devil's going on?”

Faith took the next five minutes explaining what had happened to her.

“Y’know?” wrapping the sheet around herself she padded over to the window and looked out at the world. “I’ve had a good feed off a lot of guys in this forest. But I’ve never got everything I needed offa any of ‘em…‘til now.”

Faith turned and let the sheet drop to the floor.

“Oh I say!” gasped the king.

“Reckon you deserve a special reward!” Faith launched herself at the king and landed on the bed next to him…

0=0=0=0

**Several weeks later**

Sitting on the end of the bed, Faith ran her hand through the soft silky fur of the coat that Harry had just given her. She moved her hand from the fur coat to the diamond tiara perched on her head, she sighed. Much to her own surprise she felt guilty; she felt guilty about being the King’s mistress, she felt guilty about all the nice things Harry had given her over the weeks. But most surprisingly, particularly to her, she felt guilty about not trying to get home.

The people here didn’t need her; they had their own way of dealing with monsters, for instance. The Royal Air Force in this reality spent most of its time chasing and shooting down dragons. Harry was in fact sitting at the other end of the bed reading some reports about the new Spitfire fighter planes. In a way it was all weirder than home and she missed home.

She missed Buffy, Red and Giles, she missed the new slayers, she even missed Xander. She liked Xander, he was a good friend. He’d been there for her when Woody had run out on her. He’d sat and watched her get drunk then taken her home and put her to bed. He’d not even tried cop a feel when she couldn’t have stopped him and that meant a lot to Faith.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“Yes, old thing,” he looked up and smiled, “sorry I’m not giving you the attention you so richly deserve, but I’ve got to read these damn reports, don’t-cha-know?”

“Hey,” Faith smiled, “doesn’t matter, look…I’ve been thinking…”

“You’re going to go,” Harry put the papers to one side and gave Faith his full attention, “aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Faith nodded her head sadly, “ya know I’ve gotta try and get home see. People are relying on me…”

“I know just how you feel,” the king forced a smile, “When will you be leaving?”

“I thought I’d go now,” Faith stood up and looked down at her soon to be ex-lover king.

“Yes,” agreed Harry, “yes indeed, probably best. No long goodbyes, and all that. Don’t want to make a fuss.”

“No,” Faith started to walk towards the door leading to her dressing room; she turned to look one last time at her lover, “it was fun, y’know?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry forced a smile, “jolly good fun…”

“Hey, Harry,” Faith turned to face the king full on, she held her coat open and struck a provocative pose, “something to remember me by.”

She laughed and a moment later vanished from the room and from that reality, leaving the king with his reports and a big Faith shaped hole in his heart.

The End.

This story line will be completed in ‘The Ugliest Witch in the North Country?’

0=0=0=0

You may like to copy and paste this link to you’re favourite search engine or highlight and right click to hear Steeleye Span sing ‘King Henry’.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrsGpPA5TBA


	2. The Ugliest Witch in the North Country.

The Ugliest Witch in the North Country.

By Steeleye.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse or this traditional song/story. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: The Buffyverse with the traditional song/story ‘Alison Gross’, also a very minor ‘Monty Python’ cross.

Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation; Written in glorious English-English. Both English and American idioms are used throughout this fic.

Timeline: Post Season 7 (no comics).

Words: 3000+.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Xander turned into a snake? A hideous witch on the rampage in Halifax? Willow and Buffy going nuts and acting like animals? It must be because it’s ‘grim up north’.

0=0=0=0

**Halifax, Yorkshire, England, Winter, 2004.**

It was a dark and stormy night…well, it wasn’t really stormy. A cold wind blew in off the moors and a fine drizzle fell from out of a cold, dark, sky, so, as far as Buffy Summers, slayer and California girl was concerned, it was a dark and stormy night. Shivering she pulled her woolly hat further down over her ears and trust her hands deeper into the pockets of her waterproof jacket. Sometimes she really regretted the closing of the hellmouth in Sunnydale; at least it would have been warmer with there being hell on Earth.

Giles had said that there was another Hellmouth in Cleveland; they’d been half way to Ohio before he’d plucked up the courage to mention that he meant the one in Northern England. Even that couldn’t be too bad, Buffy had thought at the time; like England, land of scones and crumpets. Surely the winters couldn’t be as bad as the ones she’d read about in Ohio. It still amazed her how wrong she could be.

Leaning against the corner of the terraced house where she hid, Buffy looked across the open ground towards the tower block and wished she’d brought her hip flask with her; a shot of vodka would warm her up right about now. Apart from the wind stirring the branches of the trees that grew around the playing field nothing moved; this was beginning to look like a bust. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see the huddled form of Willow Rosenberg hurrying along the street towards her.

“Hey!” Willow smiled out from under the hood of her rain coat, she waved a gloved hand and tried to sound hopeful, “Any luck?”

“No, nothing,” Buffy sighed, “where’s Kennedy?”

“She had to deal with a nest of vamps in Leeds,” Willow explained, “she’ll be along tomorrow.”

“Good,” Buffy muttered absently.

Talking of Faith, which they hadn’t been, what the heck had happened to her? After all, this was why Buffy was here tonight. Two weeks previously she’d asked Faith to deal with a witch who was making life unpleasant (no make that ‘more’ unpleasant) for the good people of Halifax. Faith had gone, she’d called in saying she’d found the witch, one Alison Gross, and was going to deal with her that night. 

Then it was as if Faith had never existed; after that message they’d heard no more from her. Buffy had quickly become worried; Giles had even called the police. A check of all the local hospitals, prisons and mortuaries had shown not a trace of the oversexed slayer. Next Buffy had sent Xander; she’d given him strict instructions to find Faith but not to confront Gross at any cost. Now he was late for his rendezvous with Willow and herself.

“I blame myself,” moaned Willow.

“How come?” Buffy turned and gave Willow an incredulous look, “If there’s any blame being handed out I should get an extra big helping for sending them here without proper back up.”

It didn’t seem to matter how many slayers there were never enough.

“I loaded them both down with, like, charms and protection spells and stuff,” Willow explained miserably, “What if this Gross woman is more powerful than me?”

“Hey,” Buffy gave Willow’s arm a comforting squeeze, “no one's more powerful than you, Will. Chances are they’re both in some warm comfortable hotel for the last week having a vacation.”

“Hope…” began Willow but Buffy cut her off.

“What’s that?” Buffy bent and searched through the sports bag at her feet, when she stood up again she held a long, sharp sword in her hand.

“What’s what?” Willow looked around nervously, “I didn’t hear any…what’s that!?”

“You heard it too?” Buffy searched the dark playing field with slayer enhanced eyes but saw nothing.

“Yeah,” Willow looked up and down the street as she readied a magical flare, “like a sort of slithering, sliding noise, like a great big…”

“Snake?” Buffy asked quizzically.

“Yeah,” agreed Willow, “just like a…”

“No!” exclaimed Buffy as she pointed behind Willow, “SNAKE!”

Turning Willow saw a huge serpent-like creature loom over her. It hissed as it swayed from side to side not three yards from her, its human shaped head turned towards her ready to strike. Buffy pushed past the startled witch and raised her sword ready to kill the loathsome thing.

“NOOOO’sssss!” hissed the snake, “Bufsss, Willssssss, it’sssss me ssssander!”

“Sander?” both women cried in chorus.

Buffy lowered her sword and took a good look at the snake’s face.

“Xander!” she cried in shock, “W-what happened?”

Xander tried to shrug, but without any shoulders no one noticed and Buffy just thought he was ignoring her question.

“It was that witch-bitch wasn’t it?” Willow figuratively started to roll up her sleeves (after all she didn’t want to do it in reality, she’d not want to die of exposure) ready for a magical dual with the evil witch.

“Yesssss,” hissed Xander, “cansss yousss turnsss messs backssss, Willsssss?”

“I don’t know,” Willow replied uncertainly, “I’ll need my books I expect.”

“Canssss youssss at leassssssst letss messss talksss properlyssssssss?”

“Hold on,” Willow muttered some Latin under her breath, “How’s that?”

“Great merciful Zeus!” cried Xander without a trace of any extraneous sibilants, “Thank-you Will, if I had arms I’d hug you!”

“Okay,” Buffy put her hand to her forehead, “like now you can say it and not spray it, what the hell happened?”

Coiling his body around a handy lampost, Xander got himself comfortable.

“Alison Gross,” he began, “that lives in yon tower block, the ugliest witch in the North Country.”

Willow and Buffy exchanged concerned looks, something didn’t sound quite right here.

“She trysted me one day up to her bower and many a fair speech she made to me,” continued Xander as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sing his report. “She stroked my head and she combed my hair, she set me down softly on her knee…”

“Big woman is she?” Buffy asked, Xander continued singing and ignoring her.

“Saying, if you will be my lover so true so many good things I would give to you,” Xander paused for a moment giving Buffy an opportunity to break into his tale of woe.

“Umm, Xander,” she began hesitantly, “why are you singing, like some sorta folksong or something?”

“I am?” Xander looked genuinely surprised.

“Uh-huh,” nodded Willow, “I’m sorta expecting you to like start with the ‘thee’s’ and ‘thou’s’ almost any time now.”

“Must be the spell,” Xander suggested.

“That’s just nasty,” muttered Willow darkly, “as if turning you into a snake…”

“Worm,” corrected Xander.

“Sorry, worm,” Willow continued hardly missing a beat, “wasn’t bad enough; she makes you sing all the time.”

“Worm?” Buffy frowned, “He looks like a big honking snake to me.”

“No,” Willow turned to Buffy ready to lecture. “In English mythology the thing Xander’s been turned into is called a Worm or T’Worm. It’s like a monster snake but harder to kill.”

“Thank-you, Miss Giles junior,” Buffy muttered under her breath before saying, “Yeah that’s all fine 'n' dandy, but how do we un-snake…”

“Worm,” corrected Xander and Willow.

“Sorry,” Buffy rolled her eyes, “de-worm Xander and kill the witch-bitch?”

“We could take him to the vet’s,” sniggered Willow and received black looks from both Buffy and Xander for her trouble.

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Buffy shivered as a particularly cold blast of air found its way under her jacket, “we’re not going to achieve anything standing about in the cold and wet.”

“I saw a pub down the road a ways,” Willow jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “What say we get out of the cold and have a drink?”

“What about Xander?” Buffy started to walk eagerly towards the pub as Willow fell in beside her and Xander uncoiled himself before sliding along behind them. “Won’t the locals say anything?”

“Hey,” smiled Willow, “you’re forgetting, this is England everyone will pretend not to notice.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy grinned and nodded her head, “sorry I forgot.”

0=0=0=0

Walking, or in Xander’s case sliding, into the public bar of the ‘Rat and Ferret’ public house, Buffy found that the only other customers were four old Yorkshiremen reminiscing about how tough life had been in their youth. Their stories appeared to get wilder the more they talked. They did not, however, seem to notice that the two young women who’d just walked in had been accompanied by a large snake with a human shaped head and an eye-patch.

Walking up to the bar, Buffy ordered a double vodka for herself, a gin and tonic for Willow and a pint of best bitter with a straw for Xander. The barmaid, a short blonde east European girl served her without batting an eyelid; she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ordered a pint with a straw, what next she wondered, cocktail umbrellas? 

The three sat, or curled, in a corner alcove and sipped their drinks. The four old men had got onto how their parents would kill them and dance about on their graves singing ‘glory hallelujah’ after they’d come home from working 26 hours a day at ‘t’mill’. Buffy checked them out to make sure they weren’t zombies.

“Not a bad pint that,” Xander let the straw fall from his mouth after draining the first third of his drink.

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy sipped her drink in a ladylike manner, “so, what happened next?”

“Oh yeah,” Xander thought for a moment before saying, “Away, away, you ugly witch, go far away and let me be. I never would kiss your ugly mouth, for all of the gifts that you could give!”

“Oh, damn,” Buffy had forgotten about the singing spell, “can’t you just…”

“Alison Gross she must be,” Xander started on some sort of chorus, “the ugliest witch in the North Country…”

“Xan…” Buffy tried to butt in again but was cut off before the words were out of her mouth by another line of…

“Alison Gross she must be,” reiterated Xander, “the ugliest witch in the North Country!”

Silence fell for a moment across the pub.

“Have you finished?” Buffy gave Xander and Willow (who was recovering from snorting gin and tonic down her nose) her best angry chipmunk glare.

“Yeah,” Xander nonchalantly sucked up beer through his straw.

“So,” Buffy held onto her temper with both hands, “tell me everything that happened next…remembering that if you burst into song or even start rhyming I’ll tie you into a really big Xander-worm shaped knot!”

“Hey,” complained Xander, “I can’t help it, I’m under a spell, remember?”

0=0=0=0

**A little while later.**

“You’d better untie him,” Willow looked sternly at Buffy; “it’s not really his fault.”

It had been somewhere around the third or fourth verse that Buffy’s patience had finally snapped. Xander had been explaining about how he’d refused ‘a cup of the good red gold’ just before he’d made clear (once more) how he’d told the witch ‘no’, that Buffy had reached across the table and tied him into a large bow.

“Sorry,” Buffy stood up and heaved on Xander’s tail; he shook himself free and gave her a hurt look.

“This ‘grass green horn’ sounds interesting,” Willow tried to take a leaf out of the local’s book and act as if nothing had happened, “it could be that it’s the focus of her powers. If we can stop her using it we should be able to kill her.”

“What about this calling on the moon and stars thing?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Sounds like simple pagan magics to me,” replied Willow knowingly, “it’s the horn that sounds important.”

“Okay then,” Buffy stood up ready to face the evil (and really-really ugly) witch.

“Hey,” cried Xander apparently no worse for his previous contortions, “what about another round? I’d buy but,” he gave a shoulder-less shrug, “no pockets.”

“I’ll get ‘em in,” Willow got her purse from her bag and headed for the bar.

0=0=0=0

As the blonde, redhead and large T’worm left the pub they passed by the table occupied by the four Yorkshiremen. Josiah turned to his friend, Obadiah and winked knowingly.

“Of course,” Obadiah began, “in my day we had proper monsters…”

“Aye,” agreed Josiah, “with greeet big teeth an’ claws.”

“In a cracked cup an’all,” added Cyril absently.

“We’re on t’monsters now,” Obadiah reminded Cyril.

“Oh, we are?” Cyril looked from one friend to another as they all nodded their heads, “sorry.”

“Aye,” Norman took a pull of his beer and sighed, “they don’t make t’monsters like they used to, th’knows.”

“No,” they all agreed sadly.

0=0=0=0

The battle against the witch, Alison Gross, was short and victorious but not without its casualties. It fell to Xander to deliver the coup de grace when both Buffy and Willow had been put hors de combat. Miraculously, Xander found himself returned to human form once the witch was dead. Finding his clothes, he quickly dressed and phoned Giles at Slayer Central. Giles arranged for a car to come and pick them up, saying that it’d take a couple of hours to get to them. Xander told him to send the car to the Rat and Ferret public house; they’d wait for it there.

0=0=0=0

Once again the barmaid of the Rat and Ferret didn’t bat an eyelid when the handsome one-eyed American guy came to the bar and ordered drinks for himself and his two friends. The four Yorkshiremen sitting across the room acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see a young man being accompanied by a person sized Red Squirrel and a similarly sized Chipmunk.

“Sorry,” Willow sat and fluffed up her russet coloured tail, “I forgot all about the silver wand…”

“Never mind,” Buffy sounded as if she’d been sucking on helium, “I expect it’ll wear off in a while, I mean Xander’s back to normal so its only a matter of time.”

“I expect so,” replied Willow her tufted ears flicking backwards and forwards. “At least we’re human sized and can talk, not like poor Amy.”

“Oh god yes!” Buffy reached for the bowl of nuts that Xander had placed in the centre of the table, “That’d be mucho badness!”

Buffy picked up handfuls of nuts and put them in her mouth.

“Hey,” squeaked Willow reaching for the nuts, “those are for everyone y’know!”

Buffy’s cheeks were bulging with stored peanuts.

The fur flew and there was a loud squeaky argument over possession of the bowl of nuts. Xander seeing the hard look the barmaid was giving them was forced to step in and separate the warring, furry woodland creatures.

“Ladies! Ladies!” cried Xander pulling the two squabbling women apart, “Please, there’s nuts enough for every one, there’s no need to act like animals!”

Having restored order Xander sat down and watched his two best friends for a moment.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he said full of righteous indignation, “you might have been turned into,” he paused while he looked from Buffy to Willow, “what I have to admit are real cute fluffy creatures,” he smiled at the looks he received from the two women. “But, may I remind you that Faith is still missing.”

“Sorry,” Willow squeaked with a hang squirrel look.

“Yeah,” Buffy’s helium powered voice almost made Xander laugh out loud, but he managed to keep a straight face, “sorry Xander.”

“And so you should be, I mean if Faith was here she’d move…” Xander was interrupted by a loud pop.

Looking around Xander and his menagerie saw Faith standing no more than a couple of feet away. She was wearing a mink fur coat, a diamond tiara, hi-heels and a confused expression; she was also striking a pose that left little (well, actually nothing) to the imagination. 

“Hey,” she looked around in confusion as she wrapped herself in her mink, “what the hell happened?”

“FAITH!?” cried Buffy-Chipmunk and Squirrel-Willow, they held on to each other as they looked in terror at Faith’s coat.

“Dog and cat, mink and rabbit,” squeaked Squirrel-Willow as she pointed at Faith, “their fur is theirs and not for jackets!”

“No blood for vanity,” agreed Chipmunk Buffy.

“Where’s…” Faith looked at Xander, “Hey, never mind. Harris,” she smiled, but not in a nice way, “my face is up here y’know?”

Xander tried to wipe the silly grin off his face as Faith walked over and sat down at the table and picked up Xander’s pint. Just then the barmaid came over and asked them to leave; they were disturbing the old gentlemen.

THE END

0=0=0=0

You may like to copy and paste this to you’re favourite search engine or highlight and right click to hear Steeleye Span singing ‘Alison Gross’.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozxsUGtBu-c


	3. Nellie the Demon.

Nellie the Demon.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Buffyverse, Call of Cthulhu or Nellie the Elephant. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** Call of Cthulhu and the song ‘Nellie the Elephant’.

 **Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation:** Written in glorious English-English. English and American idioms are used throughout this fic.

 **Timeline:** Post BtVS Season 7, no comics.

 **Words:** 3000+.

 **Warnings:** None.

 **Summary:** Clowns? A homicidal elephant demon? A trip to the circus can really only end one way when it’s grim up north. Xover with ‘Call of Cthulhu’ and the song ‘Nellie the Elephant’.

0=0=0=0

**Redcar, Cleveland, England, Winter, 2003.**

It was a bitterly cold December evening in Redcar, Cleveland. A freezing mist rolled in off the North Sea as a fog horn sounded mournfully in the distance. On what passed for dry land, in this part of the world, a crowd of people waited to be allowed into the relative shelter of a big tent set up in the middle of Redcar Racecourse. They’d all sampled the delights of the funfair and were now waiting to be let into the Big Top to see ‘Zargos’ Wonderful World of Circus’!

“Great!” Kennedy clapped her woollen mittened hands together in joy, “The Circus!”

The dark haired slayer received a multitude of frowns and black looks from her companions without turning a hair. When Buffy had given the group of fifteen to sixteen year old trainee slayers the choice between a late night shopping trip to the Cleveland Shopping Centre in Middlesbrough, or going to the circus for a group outing; much to her surprise they’d chosen the circus.

This had made her very suspicious; if her parents had tried to take her to the circus at that age she’d have moaned and sulked and generally been a pain in the butt. But these girls seemed to be actually looking forward to the outing. This was even after they’d been told that there’d be clowns. For a moment or two after this revelation there’d been some hesitation, but after an hour or so the girls had returned and reaffirmed their enthusiasm for the circus trip. In fact the only person to show any real eagerness from the get go had been Kennedy; now Buffy thought about it, hadn’t it been Kennedy’s idea in the first place? Buffy was beginning to have the strongest of feeling that there might have been some bribery going on behind the scenes. Although, exactly why Kennedy would want to put everybody through the living hell that was the circus instead of going by herself she couldn’t work out; at least not just yet.

“Sweetie,” Willow’s breath clouded in the freezing air as she spoke, “I’m not sure we should be supporting the circus…you know all those poor animals forced to do unnatural stuff.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Kennedy smiled from between layers of brightly coloured woollen scarves and hats, “I checked. They only have animal acts using traditionally domesticated animals, and they’ve been checked out by the RSPCA.”

“Domesticated animals?” queried Buffy as she tried to get candy floss out of one of the younger slayer’s hair, “What, like, cows and sheep right?”

“No,” replied Kennedy wearily, “come on you know what I mean; horses, dogs,” Kennedy paused before adding quietly, “elephants.”

“Oh that’s alright then,” Willow breathed a sigh of relief, “if it’s only domesticated ani…elephants?”

Willow turned an annoyed glare on her girlfriend.

“Hey!” Kennedy began defensively, “In some countries elephants are domesticated animals…”

“Yeah, like for knocking down trees and stuff in Thailand or somewhere,” Willow was getting quite cross now; Buffy had the feeling Kennedy would be sleeping on the couch tonight. “Bet they make poor jumbo’s jump through hoops and stuff.”

“Elephants can’t jump,” Kennedy pointed out hands on hips, “that’s why they’re so afraid of mice.”

Buffy and Willow looked at Kennedy in confusion, “Huh?” they chorused.

“Yeah,” Kennedy regained a little of her usual unbounded confidence, “if they could jump they’d be able to get up on a stool or something whenever they see a mouse.”

“That’s so not the point,” rejoined Willow shaking her head as if to rid it of pictures of frightened elephants trembling on top of stools, “you tricked us and now we have to sit through clowns and stuff as well as torturing poor defenceless animals…”

“Elephants aren’t defenceless…” Kennedy would have said more but just at that moment someone opened the flap to the tent and people started to file into the Big Top.

0=0=0=0

To be honest, when Buffy thought of fun things to do, sitting on hard wooden seats in a freezing, drafty tent just didn’t feature. She hugged herself tightly trying to conserve any warmth her body still had before it was leached away by some Arctic demon that so obviously inhabited the tent. Where was Giles while she was suffering like this? He should be here to share her pain, not attending some fancy dinner at a no doubt posh, and more importantly, warm hotel.

Never mind Giles, where were Faith and Xander? That business about the Treacle Monster in Bradford had blown up suspiciously quickly after the trip to the circus had been announced. Buffy frowned and sank further into the layers of clothes she was wearing (these days even in the summer she never ventured out at night without at least a vest on under her tank top). She knew just where Xander and Faith would be; they’d be in the bar of some nice country hotel somewhere sharing a drink or something…gods how she wished she was with them.

Just then Buffy was jolted out of her dark mood by the ring mistress walking into the centre of the ring. God, thought Buffy, she must be cold. The woman was wearing a red dinner jacket and white waistcoat, what looked like black waist high knickers, black tights and high heels all set off with a tall top hat. Using a microphone that hung down from the darkness above she announced the first act in what sounded like an East European accent.

0=0=0=0

Chaugnar Faugn raged at the injustice of the universe, the Elder Gods had trapped him inside this parody of his true form for the past hundred years. He was forced to dance and do tricks for the puny humans that should rightfully be sacrificed to him in his mountain lair. But tonight the stars and the planets were in the correct alignment; he had succeeded in influencing one of the weaker willed humans into conducting the ceremonies that would free him from his prison. Tonight he would escape his confinement, tonight he would be free. Tonight the blood of the humans would flow like a river as he took his revenge. However, in the meantime he had a show to put on; he waited for the ring mistress to call him to the Big Top.

0=0=0=0

The first few acts passed in the same way as death inexorably follows torture, only without any of the fun bits. In between acts the clowns came out to ‘entertain’ the audience. Sad men in big trousers and oversized boots fell about the ring as their car inevitably blew up and the small children in the audience cried and clung to their parents in fear. Buffy wondered what would happen if she leapt into the ring and slayed the lot of them. Surely no judge or jury would convict, surely they’d see she’d been doing a public service?

Eventually the clowns left the ring to the sound of desultory applause from the relieved audience. At last the final act made its way into the ring in the form of a tired looking female Indian Elephant. The elephant received louder and more enthusiastic applause than the clowns had. Maybe it was knowledge that after this act everyone could go home and have their frostbitten fingers and toes treated, maybe it was just relief that the clowns had finally gone.

Glancing down the line of bored looking younger slayers Buffy caught sight of Willow…the best word for the look on her face would be ‘fuming’. Willow sat with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and a frown on her face that drew both her eyebrows together to make them look like one long, red eyebrow. Kennedy was in big trouble. The thought made Buffy frown herself. Kennedy must have known Willow would have this reaction, whatever else she might be, Kennedy wasn’t stupid. So, she must have a reason to risk her relationship with Willow. Buffy gasped as the truth hit home; Kennedy had obviously turned to the ‘Dark Side’ and was about to sacrifice them all to some clownish hellgod!

Buffy's thoughts of death and betrayal were interrupted by a scream from the audience. Looking back towards the ring, she wondered what had happened now; surely the clowns hadn’t come back on. Her eyes fell on the elephant. There was something odd happening, her slayer senses were flashing her danger signals that indicated there was a greater threat to life and sanity than just a few clowns. The elephant was sitting back on its haunches in a sort of begging dog type pose; the creature was slowly changing shape. Its tusks were growing longer and the ends appeared to be getting sharper. Its fore feet were slowly changing shape into arms and hands with wickedly sharp looking talons at the ends of its fingers. Its ears became webbed looking and the creature’s eyes took on a malevolent cast and the entire creature grew in size until it was nearly twice the size as it had been.

There was, not unexpectedly, a great deal of screaming and rushing for the exits as the audience realised something bad was happening…worse than clowns that is. The monster stomped across the ring neatly crushing the elephant trainer under one giant foot. The creature snatched up a member of the audience in its trunk and smartly popped the struggling victim into its mouth. There was a sickening crunch as the monster bit down on its crunchy snack. Just as she was about to start shouting orders, Buffy looked along the line of slayers to see them pull knives, hatchets and stakes and chains with spiky bits on the end, from under their clothes. There at the end of the row she could see Kennedy putting together a sort of spear thing made from lengths of pipe.

“You knew this would happen!” Buffy cried as she pushed panicking people out of her way. “How? Why?” That wasn’t important now she thought, “I’ll deal with you later…lets get these people outta here!”

0=0=0=0

Trumpeting with the joy of being free once more, Chaugnar Faugn snatched up another struggling human and crushed the life out of it before putting the limp body into his mouth. He gloried in the taste of blood and flesh as it slipped down his throat to warm his soulless body. Soon he would have to break out of the flimsy structure that surrounded him, his prey were rapidly making their escape and he was still hungry.

0=0=0=0

The young slayers had succeeded in getting most of the audience out of the big top without too many casualties. The circus staff and performers appeared to have run off leaving only the squashed remains of the elephant trainer behind; poetic justice thought Buffy uncharitably. As she stood at bay in the path of the monster elephant, she felt someone press something into her hand; looking down she saw someone had given her a long, sharp knife. A moment later she found Willow standing beside her.

“Will, I hope you can do something?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“Let’s see how it likes magical fire,” Willow raised her arms as she muttered the spell under her breath.

“NO!” screamed Kennedy as she jumped at Willow and caught hold of her arms, “Chaugnar Faugn is immune to magical attack. We need to weaken it first.”

“Like, how?” Buffy demanded, “And how do you know?”

“A good education,” replied Kennedy shortly, “we’re going to have to stick sharp things into it first.”

0=0=0=0

Roaring loudly, Chaugnar Faugn swatted at the annoying humans that danced all around him. They attacked him with pitifully small weapons that had no chance of seriously damaging him. But they were so small and agile that he couldn’t hit them with his talon tipped hands or even his trunk. What was even more annoying was that all the other, more easily caught humans had run off. Didn’t they realise he needed to feed? They should be grateful that he had chosen them to die for his glory. He roared in pain as one of the disgustingly insignificant humans stuck its weapon into a particularly tender spot. It was time for him to leave; now which way was Hindustan?

0=0=0=0

Dancing away from the clumsy swipe of a clawed hand, Buffy stood back to take a breather. Kennedy had shouted to her about Chaugnar Faugn having ‘ninety hit points’ or something. If she understood correctly that meant that if each attack inflicted one ‘hit point’ then they needed to hit it ninety times. Buffy promised herself that she was going to have a serious talk with Kennedy when all this was over. Dodging under the creature’s swinging trunk, Buffy buried her knife in the monster’s side. Blood squirted and the creature howled in pain, Buffy smiled, that was a good hit, she must have stabbed something vital. Ducking away from the creature, she noted the amount of wounds and blood that covered the monster’s hide, if they kept this up the hideous thing would soon be dead. Unfortunately the foul fiend from hell had also worked out that the battle wasn’t exactly going its way. It started to move towards the exit of the tent.

“STOP IT!” cried Buffy desperately hanging on to the creature’s tail as it pulled her across the ring; her heels leaving twin furrows in the sand and co-incidentally ruining a perfectly good pair of boots.

Seeing the situation, Willow, tried to workout what she could do to help. So far, as magical attack was useless or so Kennedy had claimed, she’d been reduced to sitting on the sidelines acting as cheerleader for team slayer. This was an unfamiliar position for a proactive witch such as herself. If direct attack on the creature was impossible, maybe an indirect approach might be efficacious. Slowly, Willow drew her spells around her, muttering arcane words of power under her breath she prepared to conjure up creatures so vile and foul that not even this monstrosity could hope to stand against them. By now there were several slayers hanging on to Buffy who was in turn hanging on to the beast’s tail as she tried to impede the monster’s progress out into the wide world.

With a flourish and a great cry of, “SO MOTE IT BE!” Willow came to the end of her incantation.

At first nothing happened and Willow was just beginning to think that she had failed when… First there was a single *POP!* then another followed rapidly by a third, a fourth a fifth. Finally the ‘pops’ came in rapid succession too fast to count. Moments later the first slayer screamed and jumped up onto a chair.

“Oh, darn!” wailed Willow woefully; once again in her eagerness to help out she’d forgotten about the possible side effects.

A veritable plague of mice ran about the circus ring as slayers screamed in panic and jumped up on chairs and boxes.

“Oh come on guys!” cried Willow, “They’re only little mices!”

Whatever the reaction of the slayers the effect on the monster seemed to be magnified. It let out a high pitched scream and tried to jump up on a big box to escape the squeaking horde that ran around its feet. The monster failed; Kennedy had been right, not only couldn’t elephants (or in this case vaguely elephant shaped monsters) jump; but they were also terrified of mice!

Luckily not all slayers were frightened of mice or were made of sterner stuff and could hide their fear. Buffy and Kennedy closed in on the repugnant brute as it rolled on the ground flailing at the multitude of malicious Mickey Mouses. The two slayers dodged the fiends frantic fumbling to plunge their weapons repeatedly into its body. Blood flowed like a river as the brutes bestial bellows got weaker and its attempts at defending itself finally failed; eventually it lay still in a pool of its own putrid juices. Panting Buffy and Kennedy leaned against their weapons and grinned at each other. The mice, frightened by all the screaming slayers, skedaddled out under the edge of the tent to infest the surrounding houses.

0=0=0=0

Some day’s later Willow and Buffy were walking down a corridor at Slayer Central near Saltburn-by-the-Sea.

“Come on,” pleaded Willow, “you’ve forgiven people for worse…you forgave me and I tried to destroy the world!”

“Yeah I know,” admitted Buffy, “but…”

“Look Kennedy didn’t tell you coz she thought you wouldn’t believe her,” explained Willow reasonably, “she didn’t tell anyone but the girls…okay so she bribed them to say they wanted to go to the circus but they’d have gone even without the bribe…no one got hurt. Well,” Willow paused and corrected herself, “not many people got hurt.”

“Have you seen the newspapers?” Buffy frowned at her friend, “Elephant runs amok, it says plus there’s the little thing about the plague of mice in Redcar and…”

And, so Buffy went on and on, Willow eventually zoned out and just nodded her head at appropriate times. Buffy would come ‘round eventually and all would be forgiven, but only after she’d got everything off her chest. Wistfully, Willow wondered what had happened to everyone internalising their feelings…oh for the good old days of angst and self recrimination, she sighed.

Walking along next to Buffy, Willow came up behind two trainees, one of them had been at the circus fight, she seemed to be telling her friend a joke and had just got to the punchline, Willow listened in, anything was way better than listening to Buffy moan on.

“…so you see,” confided the girl to her friend, “Nellie, the débutante, packed her trunk and said goodbye to the crocus!”

The girls laughed, Willow frowned and scratched her head and Buffy kept on complaining about Kennedy.

The End.

You may like to highlight and right click on the following link to listen to Mandy Miller sing, ‘Nellie the Elephant’.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28Rh9zRdXxA&list=RD28Rh9zRdXxA

Information on Chaugnar Faugn was taken from Chaosium Inc’s Call of Cthulhu rule book for the RPG of the same name (5th Edition).

Call of Cthulhu is of course based on the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.


	4. A Most Immoral Santa.

A Most Immoral Santa.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or this traditional Christmas song. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** SongFic; Father Christmas Do Not touch Me.

 **Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious English-English. 

**Timeline:** Grim Up North series of fics, Christmas 2003.

 **Words:** 2000+

 **Warnings:** Smut?

 **Summary:** “HEY! GET OFFA ME YOU SANTA FREAK!” Dawn gets a very special Christmas gift.

0=0=0=0

**Christmas Eve, Dawn and Violet’s Flat, Middlesbrough, Cleveland, England.**

 _“…does he ride a red nosed reindeer? Does come upon a sleigh, do the fairies keep him sober for the da-ay?”_ Dawn sang the old, Slade, Christmas hit as she danced merrily around the flat. Her flatmate, Violet, had gone home to the States to visit her family for the holiday leaving Dawn to her own devices. It was Christmas Eve and she was going to a party with her sister; Dawn had to ask herself, just how dire was that? Glancing at her wristwatch, she noted that it was nearly time for Buffy to arrive.

Walking into the hall, Dawn looked at herself in the full length mirror that hung on the wall opposite the front door. Brushing her hair away from her face, she happened to notice the reflection of the sprig of mistletoe that hung forlornly from the ceiling. Sighing dejectedly she wondered why she’d bothered putting it up, the only people she’d kissed under it were Giles and Xander and that was like kissing her dad and brother. 

It was beginning to look as if another Christmas was going to go by without any romance. Sighing sadly she wondered if she’d ever meet ‘the one’; of course it didn’t help with Buffy always hanging around and chasing away all her potential boyfriends. Just as Dawn was beginning to sink into self-pity she heard a terrific crash come from the living room; it sounded as if someone had fallen through the ceiling.

Rushing into the room, Dawn found a tubby, red faced, jolly looking gentleman dressed in a red suit sitting in the fireplace. Lumps of brickwork lay all around him as he rubbed his head; soot stained his white hair, beard and the fur that trimmed his red suit. In a flash all Anya’s tales of the evil 'Santa Claws' resurfaced in her mind; she eyed the distance to Vi’s room where her friend’s weapon’s chest lay. Too far Dawn decided, plus she’d have to pass in front of the strange man now sitting in the shambles that had once been her fireplace. Her own collection of weapons was too far away, locked up in her bedroom; where was Buffy when you actually needed her?

“Ho-Ho-Ho!” Cried the red faced man as he caught sight of Dawn; he climbed to his feet, his black boots crunching on the wreckage of the fireplace.

“W-Who are you?” Dawn asked nervously; it wasn’t the snappiest or most original question, but she thought she needed to say something and take control of the situation.

“Ho-Ho-Ho!” Laughed the man, he looked Dawn up and down appreciatively, a predatory glint in his eye, “My name is Father Christmas,” he told her with a lascivious grin, “I came down the chimney ‘cause I didn’t think you’d let me in the front door.”

“Totally,” Dawn muttered too quietly for the old man to hear, “Hey,” she said more loudly, “I’ve like not written you a letter in years. What’s the deal and I hope you’re going to totally pay for that fireplace.”

“Ho-Ho-HO!” Chortled Father Christmas, “Don’t worry about that,” he gestured dismissively at the ruined fireplace and stepped closer to Dawn. “Anyway, I’ve never liked little girls…”

“You don’t?” Dawn tried to step away from the red-nosed Father Christmas, but she found herself backed up against the arm of the settee and couldn’t retreat any further.

“No!” Father Christmas breathed sherry fumes into Dawn’s face, “I don’t like little girls,” he placed his hands on Dawn’s breasts, “BIGGER ONES ARE BETTER!”

“HEY! GET OFFA ME YOU SANTA FREAK!” Dawn screamed as she fell backwards over the settee and landed on the cushions with Santa on top of her.

“HO-HO-HO!” Cried Father Christmas happily.

0=0=0=0

After paying off the taxi driver and wishing him a Merry Christmas, Buffy turned and neatly side stepped the large, steaming pile of reindeer droppings someone had left on the sidewalk (or pavement as they called it in England.) Perhaps she would have thought more of it if she hadn’t been distracted by a group of children out carol singing. Watching them suspiciously she listened carefully to the words of the carol they were singing.

_“Praise the great one’s only son,  
Praise or you will be undone.  
Death and pain to most he brings,  
Risen with darkness in his wings.  
Born again no more to lie,  
Proof that even death might die.  
Born to crush the human race,  
Wipe them out and leave no trace.  
Hark, the nameless cultists sing,  
Glory to our dreaming King.”_

*

Making a mental note to check which school the children attended, Buffy skipped merrily across the frosty car park. Using her own key, Buffy let herself into the block of apartments where Dawn lived, she ran up the stairs to her sister’s front door. Just as she was about to knock; she could have let herself in, she had a key, but even Buffy thought that would be rude, her slayer hearing picked out what sounded like a struggle going on inside the flat. Listening closely, Buffy was sure she heard Dawn cry out.

“Freakin’ Father Christmas, don’t you dare, touch me there again!” Dawn’s voice came clearly to Buffy’s ears through the door.

There was an answering, *HO-HO-HO!*, followed by the sound of a resounding slap across someone’s face.

“DAWN!” Buffy cried as she tried to fit her key into the lock; for some reason she couldn’t seem to fit it into the key hole

“I totally told you, Father Christmas, do not touch…HEY!” Dawn cried her shout was followed by the sound of material ripping, “YOU PERV! That was my favourite blouse!”

Giving up on the key, Buffy threw it to one side and started to pound on the door.

“DAWN!” she shouted through the letter box, “Dawn let me in!”

“I’M WARNING YOU!” Dawn’s voice was accompanied by the sound of breaking china, “My sister’s the slayer an-and I’ve totally got lots of slayer friends!”

“HO-HO-HO!” came the unimpressed reply.

“Don’t you come any closer or…” Dawn’s voice became muffled and indistinct.

Frantic by now, Buffy tried to break down the door, she bounced! Realising there must be some kind of barrier spell protecting the door, Buffy searched her pockets for her cellphone. Hitting one of her speed dial numbers she waited impatiently for Willow to answer. The witch answered on the second ring.

“WILLOW!”

“Buffy?”

“Willow, come quick,” Buffy explained breathlessly, “Dawn’s apartment, somethings got her and I can’t get in.”

“Be right there!” Willow hung up.

Listening at the door Buffy heard Dawn’s voice once more. This time she didn’t sound so...so panicky? In fact she was sounding as if she was starting to enjoy herself.

“Oh, Father Christmas do…” Dawn moaned loudly.

Looking through the letter box again, Buffy saw a pair of red clad legs carry Dawn into her bedroom!

“Oh! My god!” Buffy cried in fear and alarm, Dawn had been captured by the evil Santa Claws; just then, and as if by magic, Willow materialised right next to her.

“Sorry it took so long for me to get here,” Willow apologised, “but I had to pick up a few things…Kennedy and Faith are on their way too.” Willow took a deep breath, “What’s the problem?”

Buffy explained.

“Father Christmas!” Dawn’s scream (of pleasure?) reached Buffy’s ears as Willow went to work on the barrier protecting the door.

“Wow, Buffy,” Willow shook her head after passing her hand over the door, “there’s some wicked powerful mojo protecting this door. I’m not sure if I can get it open.”

“But you’ve got to!” tears started to form in Buffy’s eyes, “Can’t you hear her?”

Willow could indeed hear Dawn’s cries, it sort of sounded to her as if maybe Dawn was enjoying herself, but no, that couldn’t be right.

“What’s it doing to her?” Buffy sobbed with frustration, “She’s calling for dad!”

Just then Faith, Kennedy and Giles arrived with Xander in tow.

“My god Buffy!” Giles joined the crowd outside the door, “What’s happening…and what’s Dawn doing in there?”

“HO-HO-HO!” Father Christmas laughed as Dawn’s screams got more piercing; Faith and Kennedy exchanged knowing looks and nodded to each other.

“Hey, B,” Faith tugged at Buffy’s sleeve, “you sure the kid’s in trouble? Sounds to me like she’s having a good time.”

“I agree with Faith,” Kennedy said trying to keep a straight face, “it doesn’t sound to me as if Dawn’s in any trouble.”

“At least not yet…” sniggered Faith.

Just as Buffy was about to explain what she’d heard earlier there was one last, final, climactic scream from inside the flat, followed by a strange calm. Slowly the door swung open of its own accord as they all heard the sound of sleigh bells and reindeer hooves from the direction of the roof. A final “HO-HO-HO!” faded into the distance and then…silence.

Cautiously the little huddle made up of slayers, witch, watcher and independent building contractor moved into the flat. They saw the line of Dawn’s discarded clothes leading to her bedroom, along with the strange sooty footprints that stained the carpet. Exchanging a silent look with Willow, Buffy nodded and burst into her sister’s bedroom with Willow hard on her heels. Standing in the doorway their mouths open in shock they found Dawn lying on her rumpled bed, legs akimbo, naked and with a silly grin on her face.

“DAWN!” Buffy screamed as she rushed to her sister’s side.

0=0=0=0

Edging around Kennedy and Faith (who were standing outside Dawn’s room pretending not to look as if they were trying to see what was going on), Xander led Giles into the living room.

“Bit of a mess,” Giles observed as he gestured towards the fireplace.

“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “that fireplace is gonna need some serious work or they’ll lose their deposit.”

“What do you think?” Giles nodded his head in the direction of Dawn’s room, “Buffy overreacting?”

“Oh yeah,” Xander nodded his head knowingly, “Just Dawn and her boyfriend having a little Christmas fun,” Xander winked knowingly, “if you know what I mean.”

“I didn’t think Dawn had a boyfriend,” Giles, for want of anything better to do with his hands started to polish his glasses.

“And neither did I or Buffy,” Xander knelt down by the wrecked fireplace and looked up the flue, “lets keep it that way, eh?”

“Of course,” Giles replaced his glasses, “my discretion on this entire episode is guaranteed.” Giles looked around and caught sight of the kitchen, “Tea?” 

“Yeah, please,” Xander got out a measuring tape and started to measure up for a new fireplace, “four sugars please.”

The End.

*: ‘Hark the Nameless Cultist Sing’ from the Cthulhu hymnal sung to the tune, ‘Hark the Herald Angles Sing’.

As usual highlight and right click on the link; 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hC3AphnJLbE


End file.
